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Confession #50: I’m a Cosplay “Cheater”

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Cosplay, the art and craft of dressing as a character from some fandom, has been gaining popularity here in the US in the last several years. In fact, last year cable channel Syfy even launched a reality show based on the practice, titled Heroes of Cosplay. The craft covers a vast array of skill levels and intentions, from screen-accurate reconstructions of favorite costumes down to a T-shirt with your character’s logo/costume printed on it.

I know some people don’t “get” cosplay; I certainly didn’t used to. (To be fair, though, I didn’t get Twitter at the time, either. My, how times do change.) Actually, though, there’s not a lot to get. It’s kind of like dressing up for Hallowe’en, except in a venue where one can really uncork all the geekiness one might usually keep bottled up, knowing full well that someone will appreciate even the most obscure reference or crazy execution.

Although I was aware of the practice, I’d never really been immersed in the culture until my first convention (yes, ever) at Gallifrey One 2012. It was an eye-opening experience, and I felt almost out of place in my street clothes. I was an outsider looking in, but what I saw looked like a lot more fun than I’d ever expected.

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Confession #49: I Can Empathize with Moffat

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Occasionally, I feel like I need to cut Moffat a break. Granted, he has a lot to answer for lately; many of the narrative choices he’s made have been self-serving, at best. However, to a certain degree I feel a little sorry for him; I can empathize with the problems he has.

Before anyone goes jumping down my throat, here, let me clarify. I’m not talking about the “problems” he has with fans calling him out on questionable scripting decisions (whether they be with plot, characterization, or representation). I’m talking purely from a creative standpoint.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as I struggle to complete the latest revision of my first novel. (As an aside, if anyone cares, I also blog under my pen name about that creative process, though less regularly.) But it occurred to me, as I’ve been fighting to pull all the newly-adjusted plot threads together in the final chapters, that the issues I’m facing must be very similar to those Moffat faces every series, and I found myself suffering a pang of sympathy for the poor bastard.

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Confession #48: I Need to Be Among My People

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I had an odd, eye-opening experience this past weekend. My husband works for a company that revels in its employees’ nerdy/geeky passions, and actively encourages them both in the workplace and beyond. Last Friday was their annual holiday party, and for the first time I was able to accompany Hubby to the shindig (yay! for childcare!).

To give you an idea about what a seriously big deal this party is, I offer the following. As the company has grown, it’s opened branches in two other large, Midwestern cities. In order to ensure everyone the opportunity to indulge, they hired two busses (motorcoaches) to transport folks from these other two cities here, where an entire hotel had been reserved for the event.

At this point, those who frequent cons may begin to feel on familiar ground. While events like Gallifrey One don’t actually get the entire LAX Marriott (not for lack of trying, I’d bet), anyone not in on it is likely to feel a bit awkward. It was lovely, therefore, that the party in question didn’t have any outsiders to work around. You knew that anyone you saw there that night was a company employee, a “plus one,” or a hotel employee. (Or one of the bus drivers, I suppose…)

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Confession #47: I’m Burnt Out on Who

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I suppose it’s a good thing that Gallifrey One is coming up soon (only about five more weeks!), because I really need something to recharge my fandom battery. I’ve reached my quasi-annual burnout.

Do other fans get this? Is it just fatigue from trying to wrap my brain around Moffat’s tortured plot devices, a general malaise borne of the recent frigid weather, or is it because I blog?

I’ve often wondered about the effects of blogging on my enjoyment of the show. My self-imposed requirement of posting no less than once a week (which I’ve kept for three years running, as of this week) has occasionally led to feelings about Our Show more akin to obligation than to enjoyment, and it usually happens here in these bleak weeks between a Christmas special and Gally. I rely heavily on the excitement of the con and sharing the bits we all love with other fans to get me going again. I’m in desperate need of it this year.

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Confession #46: I’m Still Hopeful About Capaldi

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Last week the world got its first glimpse of Peter Capaldi as the Doctor at the tail end of what was arguably the worst episode since Moffat took over as showrunner. I’ve seen comment after Internet comment about how Moffat effectively jumped the shark with The Time of the Doctor, and I can’t say I completely disagree. And yet, I still find myself oddly hopeful that the upcoming series with Capaldi’s Twelfth* Doctor won’t suck the proverbial big one.

Given how many times I’ve been burned by Moffat (as mentioned last week, my enjoyment of his episodes has generally decreased over time), you’d think I’d learn not to let my expectations get the better of me. Despite experience, though, here I sit, cautiously optimistic that the show will undergo a positive change.

The rumor mill obviously has something to do with this attitude. Once folks started posting I-heard‘s and according-to‘s claiming Capaldi’s first series would trend away from the “fairy tale” motif Moffat ensured was infused throughout Smith’s run and toward a more “gothic” feel, that treasonous spark of hope rekindled.

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Confession #45: I Hate “Moffat ex Machina”

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Over the years of his reign as showrunner, Steven Moffat has taken matters of “canon” (inasmuch as such a thing exists in Doctor Who) into his own hands multiple times. Obviously, that’s only to be expected—after all, RTD started out by killing off the Time Lords, and it is the prerogative of the Powers That Be to dictate the general direction of the show.

As excited as I was when it was first announced Moffat would take over for RTD, though, I’ve come to dislike a great deal about the way Moffat approaches the show. It makes me sad. I want to enjoy every episode, but I simply can’t.

The trend started out relatively small. Building on what had come before, Moffat upped the ante on the Doctor’s romantic entanglements, introducing River Song even before the reins came into his hands. In and of herself, River is a decent character. I’m troubled, though, at the way her story (as so many of Moffat’s) turned into one about her whole existence revolving around the Doctor—from conception to brainwashed childhood to career to marriage to death. And the veracity of that “marriage” in particular has always bothered me, but that’s a different issue. My point, though (I’m sure I had a point…), is that River’s relationship with the Doctor is unconventional, to say the least. This was one of Moffat’s first salvos, hinting to us about how he would handle the show as a whole.

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Confession #43: I Love/Hate the Ten/Rose Ship

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There’s one thing that can divide a fandom faster than the Vashta Nerada can skeletonize a human: shipping. And the Dallas Cowboys (or Man U) of Who fandom ships—the one you either love or love to hate—is the Tenth Doctor and Rose. Let me break down the two camps, in terms of very broad generalizations (we’re talking horoscope broad, so obviously, YMMV).

On the one side, you have hardcore Ten/Rose shippers. They see Ten and Rose as an OTP (or “one true pairing”)—the ultimate ship that cannot be sunk, no matter what else is written before, after, for, or about the couple. As far as I can tell, some of these shippers go so far as to deny that any story that doesn’t involve Ten and Rose is innately inferior, and thereby beneath their notice, or at least a questionable use of their time.

On the other, you have Ten/Rose shipper-haters. These fans actively hate the Ten/Rose ship, and in many cases even extend that distaste to fans who do ship it. Further, a fair number of these anti-shippers believe that the Doctor does not (or should not) ever be in a romantic relationship of any sort. A non-negligible subset of these fans seem to think very little of the post-Hiatus show is worth their time.

And here I sit in the middle.

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Confession #42: I’d Like More Science in My Science Fiction

Warning: Didactic astrophysicist ahead

Fifty years ago, when Doctor Who first hit the airwaves, it was designed to be an educational show, with some fun storytelling to make it more interesting. That’s why Ian and Barbara—science and history teachers, respectively—were slated to be the Doctor’s Companions.

Admittedly, those “teachable moments” were awfully heavy-handed at first (take, for example, the scene where the Doctor outsmarts the Daleks’ lock mechanism in The Daleks, or the emphasis on the date of Robespierre’s downfall in The Reign of Terror). One has to admit, though, that they tried hard to make the stories make some sort of sense, from a scientific standpoint.

Fast forward to the modern era, and scientific realism seems to have been largely thrown out the window. As long as you can utter some technical-sounding gobbledy-gook (or timey-wimey-ness, for that matter), you’re good to go. Yes, I know that to “reverse the polarity of the neutron flow” makes no sense, either, but somehow I feel like writers these days aren’t trying even as hard as that.

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Confession #41: I’ve Never Been Scared by Who

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I suppose the fact that I only discovered the show in my late 30’s has something to do with this tragedy, but I have never found Doctor Who to be anything more alarming than “tense.” One hears all the time about kids hiding behind the sofa; of adults who still find Daleks unsettling, especially in person; of how scary this or that monster is—but I’ve never been able to relate.

I feel like I’m missing out on some essential part of the experience.

Honestly, though, while I’ll readily admit certain ideas are definitely creepy, nothing on Who has ever actually frightened me. Daleks? They may be megalomaniacal killing machines, but they look more quirky than scary. Cybermen? At their best they have a great body horror factor, but are barely even threatening. Weeping Angels? Don’t make me laugh—they let you live to death! So what is so scary about Our Show?

I’m sad to say I don’t know. Sure, it’s made me squirm a few times. As every good writer knows, the threat you can’t see is vastly more terrifying than one you can. That’s why something like the Vashta Nerada works: you never see them and don’t know exactly when or where they will strike.

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